Indomitable X-Men: To Me, My X-Men!
by Paradox Predator
Summary: In a world where the Mutant Registration Act has already been passed, Prof. Charles Xavier assembles a force of young freedom fighters in order to show the public that not all mutants are bad. Braver than any heroes before, they are the Indomitable X-Men! (First in the Indomitable Series)
1. Chapter 1

Indomitable X-Men

Prologue

A Darker World

...

 _Location: Earth-PRN962_

 _A Description…_

The people of the United States finally lived in peace, thanks to the tireless efforts of President Robert Kelly and his Secretary of Defense, Bolivar Trask. Trask's creation of the peace-keeping automatons commonly known as 'Sentinels' sparked a new era of prosperity for humanity.

Not so for their brethren. Mutants. This group was an offshoot of humanity that had been around for a long time, but was incredibly rare. In fact, they were almost an urban legend until they began to appear in larger numbers in the late 1940's, after the detonation of the atomic bombs. Most of them looked like humans, though many were what most would call deformed. Most, but not all, had unearthly powers.

When Robert Kelly was just a senator, his family was killed when a young boy manifested his powers in a rather explosive manner. It wasn't his fault, but it caused a hatred of mutants to grow in Senator Kelly's mind. He joined forces with Dr. Trask and was elected to the office of president on a strong anti-Mutant platform. Then the Sentinels were released.

On the face of things, they made life better. They lowered crime rates, and unsolved cases were a thing of the past. Policing the general population, however, was only their secondary task. The first was to hunt Mutants.

On manifesting his or her power, every mutant was to turn his or herself in to the Mutant Control Agency (MCA). Once there, they would register and receive an irremovable power control collar. If they did not turn themselves in, the Mutant Response Division (MRD) would go after them with Sentinels.

Some submitted peacefully enough, wanting nothing more than to live ordinary lives full of ordinary things. There were some, however, who resisted this tyranny and stood up for themselves.

This is their story.

...

Feel free to play the Wolverine & the X-Men theme here. To be Continued.


	2. Chapter 2

Indomitable X-Men

To Me, My X-Men!

Chapter One

Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters

...

 _Salem Center, Westchester, New York_

A red sedan pulled up to the gates of a mansion. On the gate was a sign which read _"Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters (Applications by Appointment and Interview Only)"._ A hand reached out of the car and rang the bell attached to the gate. A few moments later the gates opened, and the car drove through, on its way up to the red-brick mansion in the distance.

At the doors, the car stopped and two people got out; a man with a graying mustache and a red-headed, teenage girl with a far-off look, obviously the man's daughter. The man raised his hand to knock, but the girl stopped him.

"You don't need to do that, Dad," she said, grasping his arm, "the Professor's about to answer it."

Sure enough, the door opened a moment later, revealing a bald-head man in his mid-forties—and in a wheelchair.

"Ah, John, it's good to see you again," he said in a slight British accent. He turned to the girl and smiled. "And you must be Jean. It's wonderful to meet you. I'm—"

"Professor Charles Xavier, I know," Jean finished for him. "When do I get to see Cerebro?"

A frown crossed Professor Xavier's face and he placed two fingers against his right temple. _"Cerebro is one of my most closely-guarded secrets, Ms. Grey,"_ he thought to Jean. _"From now on, please ask before you hear/feel/think/read my mind."_

Jean's hand flew to her forehead. "Sorry, Professor," she said, almost automatically. "I won't do it again."

The Professor smiled. "I'm sure you will, Ms. Grey, though not on purpose at least," he said, gesturing for the father and daughter to follow him inside. "However, that's what I am here for—to help you gain control of your budding powers."

"Can you help her?" John Grey asked once they were all comfortably situated in the massive, yet cozy, parlor. "I mean, I don't mind that she's…" he swallowed, hesitant to say the word aloud, "…a mutant, but it's dangerous for her out there. Besides, she keeps accidentally broadcasting her thoughts to me and my wife."

Jean's face reddened slightly. The last time it had happened, she had been reading a fantasy novel and imagining herself as the heroine, thus giving her parents a rather amusing mental movie of their daughter fighting packs of Goblins. "It doesn't happen as often now," she muttered under her breath.

"Well, I'll help her control all of that," the Professor said. "I— ah— only have one other student at the moment, but I have a lead on another who needs help. Hang on a moment." He lowered his head, once again raising a hand to his temple. After a moment, the Professor raised his head again. "He's on his way up from the chem. lab," he said to Mr. Grey. "He'll be here in a moment."

"You let your students in the chemistry lab by themselves?" Mr. Grey asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Henry knows all of the safety protocols and follows them rigidly," the Professor assured him. "The lab also has a fully equipped, easy to use first-aid kit, and a self-activating fire-suppression system. He's quite safe."

Mr. Grey looked as though he were about to argue some more, but the door opened and a young man entered the room. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with a lab coat thrown over them. Rather than shoes, he was wearing specially-made plastic covers to protect his large feet. Jean could hardly suppress a laugh at those feet, since they were extremely like a monkey's.

"Hello," the boy said, pushing his round glasses up over his pronounced nose. Around his eyes were slight indents from the lab goggles he had been wearing. "I'm Hank McCoy," he introduced himself, sticking out a hand for Jean to shake.

"I'm Jean Grey," she replied, accepting the handshake. "I hope we can be friends, because I'm going to be attending here from now on."

"We haven't decided that yet," her father reminded her. "We still need to work out details, and of course we need to talk to your mother some more."

"Mom would love it if I got out of the house," Jean retorted angrily. "Besides, I love it here! This place is so cool! Please, Dad, let me go here. I'll make sure my grades stay up!"

"How do you know this place is cool?" Hank asked, cocking his head to one side. "You haven't had the tour yet, right? I would have seen you come down to the lab, if you had."

"Well…" Jean winced, "I caught pictures of lots of the rooms from your mind. I didn't mean to!" she said quickly, not wanting to make an enemy of the only student. "I have a hard time controlling my power sometimes and I just saw pictures, not, like, what you were thinking."

To her surprise, Hank waved a hand dismissively. "It's fine," he said, smiling. "If a pretty girl wants to read my mind, who am I to say no?"

Jean's father coughed politely, reminding them both that he was sitting right there. "At least try to pretend you aren't teenagers until I leave," he said, giving Hank a meaningful look. As the young man straightened up, Mr. Grey turned to the Professor. "I'm not sure I feel comfortable with this."

"Don't worry," Professor Xavier reassured him. "There are separate wings for male and female students, and security clearance is needed to enter. Your daughter will be quite safe here. And, as I said, I know for a fact that I shall have more students soon. However, if you would like, you could pick Jean up every night and take her home."

Mr. Grey sighed. "I can't do that," he said. "On the weekends, maybe; but I just don't have time during the week." He turned to Jean and took one of her hands in his. "Jean, are you going to be okay here?" he asked. "Do you think you'll like it?"

"I think I will, Dad," she said, giving him a smile. She surveyed the room and nodded. "Yeah, I think I'll be cool here."

"Right," Mr. Grey stood up and shook the hands of Hank and Professor Xavier. "Well," he said to the Professor, "I have to talk to my wife, but I'm pretty sure that Jean will start attending here at the beginning of the school year. Thanks, Charles."

"It's nothing, John," Professor Xavier said, smiling benevolently. "It's the least I could do for an old friend. I hope to see you soon."

Hank escorted the Greys to the door and saw them off before returning. "So, Professor, you said that you had your eye on another student?" he asked. "When am I going after them?"

"Not until Jean arrives and has had some training, unfortunately," Professor Xavier replied. "He's in quite dire straits, and it would be dangerous for you to go alone. However, he's a strong young man, and if he can only hold on for another few days, everything should turn out all right…"

...

The boy tensed as another needle was inserted into his arm. The faint tugging sensation told him that this was an injection, not another blood-drawing session. As usual, his tormentor did not speak. Only the whisper of silk clothing signaled that he was there at all.

Of course, if the boy merely opened his eyes, this would all be over. Or would it? He had been away from the sun for two weeks now. Two weeks of endless experimentation. It would be unendurable without the Voice; the one that told him to hang on just a little longer, because he was going to be rescued.

So he didn't open his eyes beneath his blindfold, and he didn't strain against his bonds. Xavier was coming, and soon he would be free.

…

To be Continued.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Thanks for all of the reviews, everyone! Bloodlily, I didn't realize you were alive either! Magnetrix, I have eight more chapters of this, and then I have another story in the same universe that I'm working on. Thanks again, everyone.

Indomitable X-Men

To Me, My X-Men!

Chapter Two

The Kind of Room You Avoid

...

Jean Grey stretched, attempting to make her tightly-fitting uniform expand. It consisted of a slightly X-shaped yellow dress, draped so as not to get in the way of movement, over a black bodysuit.

"Why do I have to wear this?" she said aloud to no one in particular.

"It's made of protective nano-fibers," said the voice of Hank McCoy. Jean whirled around to see him standing in the doorway, wearing a pair of blue pants with a yellow belt, and a blue jacket, open to expose muscles that appeared about as she had expected. Meaning small.

"What are you doing in here?" Jean demanded, throwing a boot at him. He dodged easily. "This is the girls' locker-room!" she hissed. "Stay out!"

"You turned the 'finished dressing' sign on," Hank said, pointing to the green light on the door. "Besides, I'm assuming that you dressed in one of the stalls rather than out in the open."

He was right, but that was no excuse. "Well, knock next time!" she said, brushing past him and going into the mysterious 'Danger Room'. "Besides, if the costumes are supposed to be protective, why is your jacket open? It's nice, but you need to zip it up."

Hank looked down, blushed, and immediately started zipping the jacket. "Oh, my stars and garters, I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, tripping over his words. "I completely forgot! The Professor says I'm absentminded. Please forgive me?"

Jean giggled and covered her mouth. She had been at the mansion— or the 'X-Mansion' as Hank called it— for four days now, and her favorite thing to do was tease her absentminded, self-conscious classmate. Not cruelly, but enough to remind him that there was a girl sharing the living space now, and he couldn't do everything the way he used to. Besides, it was extremely funny to hear him say 'Oh, my stars and garters!'

She opened her mouth to say that of course she forgave him when she was interrupted by Professor Xavier's voice echoing from the control room.

"Good morning, Ms. Grey, Beast," he said to them. Jean turned to Hank and mouthed 'Beast?' to which Hank smiled and crossed his arms. "Today," the Professor continued, "you are going to practice rescue missions. Your objectives—to get through the obstacle course, collect the dummy at the other end of the room, and return to the door."

A post with a button on top of it rose from the floor at either end of the room as the Professor kept speaking. "Both of these buttons must be pressed in order for your mission to be considered complete," he said. "You may start…now."

The room rapidly transformed into a maze of corridors. Robots stood at the junctions, armed with harpoons, tazers, and tranq-darts. Jean backed up nervously, but Hank was already off, using his simian agility to dodge weapons and traps.

"Come on, Jean!" he called back. "'Nothing ventured, nothing gained', you know! Am I correct?" He landed on the shoulders of the first robot and twisted its head. As it slumped to the floor, he jumped off and hung by his feet from the doorframe. "Are you coming?"

"Be right there!" Jean said nervously, stepping into the maze. "You know, you're stronger than you look," she commented to Beast as he dropped from doorway to walk beside her.

"It's my mutation," he said grimly, scanning the corridor for traps and enemies. "I have advanced agility and reflexes, combined with simian feet, meaning that the big toe on each foot functions as an opposable thumb. This affords me better climbing skills and greater grip when running than the average person."

"Cool," said Jean, also scanning the corridor. Not seeing anything, she extended her mental senses, but was quickly frustrated when she realized that the robots did not have minds to read. She reached further and attempted to find an easy way out directly from Professor Xavier's mind, but he slammed a mental door on her as soon as her thoughts touched his.

 _"That's cheating, Jean,"_ he told her in a disapproving tone. _"I'm sure that your last school did not allow the teachers to tell you the test answers."_

 _"I would be able to read/think/feel my opponents' minds if this were a real fight,"_ Jean countered. The Professor just laughed, and Jean felt Beast's hand on her shoulder as the mental link broke.

She was being pulled out of the way of a harpoon-thrust from a six-foot robot. "What are you doing?" Beast demanded, dodging a thrown spear. "You were almost skewered by that automaton! Pay attention!"

Instead of protesting, Jean raised one hand and attempted to draw on her secondary mutation—telekinesis. After a few moments, the robot began to shake violently, another moment, and its head flew off. As the robot sank to the floor, Jean turned to Beast. "Right," she said, "let's go."

Now that the two young mutants were working together, they cleared the Danger Room quickly, pressing both buttons and carrying the dummy back through the labyrinth of corridors. When they were finished, Hank gave Jean a high-five.

"I suppose that you're an X-Man, now," he said with a grin.

"'X-Man'?" asked Jean, tilting her head to the side. "What's that? And, um, shouldn't I be an X-'Woman'?"

"Oh, well I never really gave it much thought," Hank said, resting his chin in his hand. "I mean, the team we're building is called the 'X-Men' because 'men' is a _somewhat_ more gender-neutral title than 'women', and we plan to have both in our group. However, as a singular, I suppose—"

"Mr. McCoy, you'll cause Ms. Grey to go into shock," Professor Xavier said as he appeared in the doorway of the Danger Room. He waited for the teens to give him their full attention before clearing his throat and continuing.

"The simulation I had you run today," he explained, "is based on an actual scenario which has come to my attention. I have found in Nebraska, by use of Cerebro, a mutant boy about your age, who is being held and experimented upon by a mutant scientist."

"Please excuse my interruption, Professor," said Hank, "but do you not mean _'anti-_ mutant scientist?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. McCoy," the Professor said sadly. "Cerebro picked up a quite clear mutant signature coming from the scientist himself. You must proceed with utmost care."

"Wait just a minute!" Jean protested. "I just joined here! I only just now learned that your little group is called the X-Men! I could barely make it through a simulation!"

"Do you suggest that we leave this boy to his fate?" asked the Professor, turning his sad gaze upon Jean. "There are people I could call, but it would take them days, possibly weeks to get to Nebraska from where they are. For us, it is a matter of hours."

"I…" Jean faltered, but then her resolve strengthened. "No, you're right, Professor. We need to save him."

"Thank you, Ms. Grey," said the Professor. "You are truly a marvel. Please understand that if I could avoid you going there, I would, but there is simply no time. I've left this boy for too long as it is, and he needs to be away from that place."

"Right, then," said Jean, lifting the hem of her skirt and heading out of the Danger Room. She was pretty certain that she had seen a door marked 'Hangar' somewhere. "Let's go save the day."

"Beast," the Professor said, "I'm going to get the portable Cerebro. Prep the Blackbird."

...

They were coming. Another needle had been embedded in his arm, but he was smiling, because he was getting out of here. No more torture, no more experiments, no more sinister chuckles of a madman talking to himself about alpha mutants when he thought the boy was asleep.

Professor X had contacted Scott Summers and was now coming to rescue him.

…

To be Continued


	4. Chapter 4

Indomitable X-Men

To Me, My X-Men!

Chapter Three

Basilisk Gaze

...

Beast was piloting the Blackbird, and Jean was ninety-nine and a half percent sure that he did _not_ have a pilot's license, so she was slightly nervous. To add to that, she was stuck in the back with Professor Xavier, who was wearing a portable Cerebro helmet and muttering under his breath.

To try and take her mind off of things, Jean began to examine the inside of the sleek stealth aircraft. Each seat was equipped with a television monitor, but after tinkering with it for a while, she realized that it had no good movies programmed in. More towards the back she found, of all things, a box full of back-issues of 'Captain America' comics.

Jean glanced up towards the cockpit and smirked. So, Hank McCoy wasn't quite as cultured as he pretended to be. Or maybe these were the Professor's. Jean abandoned that notion with a shudder and continued searching.

Her search turned up a box marked 'Arms and Ammunitions', but before she could open it, Beast's voice echoed over the PA system.

"This is your pilot speaking," he said, his voice sounding mechanical and full of static. Were PA systems _supposed_ to sound like that, or was it just a fault in the technology? "Please return to your seats and deploy your restraints. We are about to land."

A few moments later, they touched down in an empty field in the outskirts of a small town outside of Omaha. The ramp lowered and Jean went to leave. The Professor reminded her to wait for Hank, so she stood at the top of the ramp, tapping her foot, until he finished the safety checks and joined her.

"Right," he said as they walked through the town, "we are attempting to locate the 'Nathan Essex Home for Boys'. Hmm…such an archaic name, don't you think? Do we rely upon our own efforts, or attempt to cajole one of the local inhabitants into revealing the information we seek?"

Jean stared at Hank for a moment. "Do you always talk like that?" she asked. "Or is it just when I'm around?"

He smiled and let out a chuckle. "I assure you, this is my preferred mode of peroration, Marvel. I never affect to be anyone I'm not." He offered her his arm. "Shall we continue?"

"It's Jean," she said, slipping her arm into his. "Let's ask someone where the place is." She steered Hank towards a woman wheeling a stroller down the street. "And let's hope she doesn't ask about our clothes," she muttered to her teammate.

"Excuse me," she said to the woman. "My friend and I are going to visit someone we know at the, um, 'Nathan Essex Home for Boys'? Do know where that is?"

The woman looked at them with a puzzled expression for a moment before answering. "You're looking for the Essex Home?" she asked incredulously. "I'm sorry, dear, but the Essex Home closed down a few years ago. Your friend can't be there."

Jean tilted her head to the side. "Huh," she said. "That's odd, I could have sworn… What do you think, Hank, was it the Essex, outside of Omaha?"

"I thought it was," Hank said, catching on in a heartbeat. "Perhaps, madam, you could direct us to the Home and we could have a look about? Even if it isn't the right place, it could be interesting."

The woman shrugged and gave them a series of complicated directions. Nothing the two couldn't memorize. They thanked her and hurried off up the street. After a few minutes, they came to the place they were looking for. A rusted iron fence surrounded the fairly extensive grounds, and there was a 'Keep Out' sign under the name on the gate.

"'Caesar, we who are about to die salute you'," Hank quoted as he pushed the gate open and stepped through.

"What?" Jean asked, following him. "We are _not_ going to die! Don't be so morbid." She shuddered. "This place is creepy enough without that."

"Sorry," Hank said. "It's just what Julius Caesar's officers said to him before they crossed the Rubicon and invaded Rome. It occurred to me that we're in a similar situation now."

"What situation?" Jean asked.

Hank turned to her and made a spooky face. "No going back," he intoned in a sepulchral voice. Jean laughed and swatted at him.

"Cut it out!" she said. "This is serious. We need to find that new mutant."

"You're right, of course," Hank said. "Lead the way, Marvel."

The two of them started the walk up to the house, keeping to the trees and shrubs along the side of the driveway so as not to be seen. Jean extended her senses in all directions, trying to catch anyone coming before they caught her or Beast.

 _Tap, tap, tap._

 _"Did you hear that?"_ Jean thought up towards Beast, who was swinging through the trees. _"Don't speak out loud, just think/communicate to me, okay?"_

 _"I heard it,"_ Beast thought back. _"In fact, I can still hear it. It's heading this way!"_ He dropped down beside her, and they both took up defensive postures, back to back. The tapping grew closer and closer.

"You guys are really loud, you know that?" a voice said as the bushes parted. Beast sprang into action, knocking the cane from the newcomer's hand and pinning him to the ground.

"Let me up!" the boy complained. "I'm the one you're here to rescue!"

"He's telling the truth," Jean said, two fingers pressed to her temple. "Let him up, Beast."

"We were under the impression that you were being held hostage in a basement," Beast said, getting off of the other boy, who they could know see was about their age, and retrieving his cane while Jean helped him up.

"I am," the boy said, adjusting his blindfold to more fully cover his eyes. "Sinister lets me take exercise about once a week or I'm no good to him. I need sunlight." His blindfold apparently to his satisfaction, he stuck out his hand for a shake. "Good to meet you, by the way. I'm Scott Summers."

"I'm Hank McCoy, also called Beast," Hank said, shaking the hand, "and this is Jean Grey, also called Marvel."

"What? We never agreed to that!" Jean complained.

"There's no time for that," Scott said. "Sinister's got Gorgeous watching me. I managed to give him the slip, but he'll pick up my trail soon. We've gotta go now!"

"Too late for that," said a thick, syrupy sort of voice. A black, tarlike substance rose from the ground and shaped itself into the form of a man in a trench coat. "Looky here," he said. "I thought that li'l ol' Slim had given me the slip on his own, but it looks like we got a conspiracy, eh?"

"Oh, hey, Gorgeous," Scott said nonchalantly. "Were your ears burning? I was just talking about you. Not really good things, you know?"

"Quit callin' me 'Gorgeous'!" the other mutant hissed. "It's George! George! Not Gorgeous! George!"

"Oh, please," Jean said. "Are you trying to be a cliché minion, or are you that way naturally?" She gave George an innocent smile, which only made him angrier.

"I think that discretion may be the better part of valor in this case," Beast whispered to Jean. "We should run."

"Scott can't see," she reminded him. "We have to fight Gorgeous George here."

However, before they could make a move, George exploded, coating them all in the thick, sticky substance he was made up of. It coated their faces, rendering them unable to breathe. One by one, Jean, Hank, and Scott succumbed to unconsciousness.

...

When Beast woke up, he panicked. He was on an operating table in a pristine, white lab; there was an IV needle in one of his arms, and a man with a lab coat thrown on over a Victorian-era suit was drawing blood from the other. Hank's first thought was that he had been caught by the MRD and was now being experimented on. When he remembered what had really happened, he didn't feel any better about his situation.

"Most remarkable," the man in the suit commented, short fangs flashing as he spoke in an upper-class British accent. "Did you know, young man," he said to Hank, "that you have only unlocked the bare minimum that your mutation has to offer? Why, with one single injection, I could double…" he trailed off, examining the vial of Hank's blood.

"Where is my compatriot?" Beast demanded.

"Hmm?" the man glanced at Beast before moving over to a lab table and putting the vial into a centrifuge. "Oh, you mean the red-haired girl? She's fine. I've put her in with Summers." He removed the vial and poured a few drops of blood onto a microscope slide. "She may be even more interesting, scientifically, than you are, but first things first, you know." He turned from the microscope and began carefully mixing chemicals in a beaker. "You will be much more powerful after this injection."

"Maybe I would prefer to stay the way I am," Hank said, testing his restraints. They were sturdy, all right. This man knew what he was doing.

"Nonsense," he said. "No one wishes to remain as they are. One can always go higher." He laughed, his blank, red eyes shining. "You are 'Beast', correct? I suppose I should introduce myself. I am Mister Sinister, the greatest genetics scientist that the world has seen thus far."

"Are you a mutant?" Beast asked. Sinister chuckled again.

"Why, do I look like a mutant?" He said sarcastically, baring his fangs. "For a supposed genius, you are incredibly dull, Beast."

"What are your powers?"

"I have extreme longevity combined with a strong physical resistance to death or bodily harm," Sinister explained.

"You're immortal," Beast translated.

"I don't know," Sinister said thoughtfully. "The evidence does seem to point in that direction, but I cannot be _empirically_ certain, as I have not, as yet, lived forever." He went back to mixing chemicals. "I tire of this conversation."

...

"So, you're a telekinetic?" Scott asked from where he was tied up in the corner. "Can't you just untie us?"

"You are _way_ too chipper for a guy who's been locked up for two weeks!" Jean exclaimed. "Doesn't anything ever get you down?"

"Aw, it's not the worst kidnapping in the world," Scott pointed out. "Sinister's a scientist, so he makes sure his test subjects are healthy, or they're useless to him. I mean, yeah, he _could_ beat me with rusty chains and feed me cold oatmeal, but what would that do to help him in his work? Besides, I had your teacher, Xavier, in my head telling me it would be over soon."

Jean rolled her eyes and concentrated. Her telekinesis was not quite as powerful as her telepathy, which was apparently not unusual for secondary mutations, according to Professor Xavier. In any case, it took Jean a full minute to get the knots of her restraints loose enough for her to slip out. Once she had, she quickly knelt down by Scott and began to untie him.

"So, why aren't there any guards?" she asked nervously, looking over her shoulder. "I thought Sinister was smart. Shouldn't he have someone watching us?"

"I haven't tried to escape before now," Scott explained, pulling his hands out of the ropes and rubbing his wrists. "He probably just didn't think of it. He can be pretty absent-minded. Right," he pointed to a mattress with some blankets on it in the corner, "tear me a new blindfold from those."

Jean went to do as Scott said. "Why do you need a new one?" she asked, using her telekinesis to tear a piece of a sheet into a bandana-sized cloth. "The one you have now is fine."

"I'm going to ruin this one," Scott said. "Come on!"

The door turned out to be unlocked. Apparently, Mister Sinister had thought that the restraints were enough to keep Jean and Scott imprisoned. Just outside the door was Scott's cane, which he took and began tapping the floor in front of him as he walked.

"I know this place pretty well by now," he explained to Jean. "The lab's in this direction. He's probably got your friend in there. Let's hope he doesn't decide to vivisect him or inject him with something before we get there."

A right turn, a left turn, and another left turn and they were standing before a door marked _"Laboratory: Toxic Chemicals Present. Keep Out!"_ Scott switched his cane from his right hand to his left and pushed the door open. Stepping inside he yelled "Put down the syringe, Sinister!"

Sinister gave a little chuckle. "Are you threatening me, Summers?" he asked incredulously as Jean entered the lab as well. "You should know by now that nothing can harm me. You've tried often enough."

"And you let me go outside today," Scott shot back, opening his eyes beneath his blindfold.

The scrap of cloth disintegrated as a hideous, red light boiled from Scott's eyes. It twisted over itself as it shot towards Sinister, striking him full in the chest and blasting him back into a cabinet of chemicals, which fell over on top of him. The next moment, Scott had his eyes closed again and was holding out a hand for the blindfold from Jean.

"Did it work?" he asked.

"Most indubitably!" said Hank, straining against his bonds. "Now, er, if I could trouble you to untie me?"

...

A few minutes later, Jean and Beast were leading Scott onto the Blackbird, ready to take him to the X-Mansion.

"Good work, you two," the Professor said as they walked up the ramp. "And you, Scott. Good work incapacitating Sinister. That's quite the Gift you have."

"It used to be different," Scott said, touching his blindfold. "The light used to be…beautiful. Sinister broke me." His voice became harder. "You know he's not gone for good, right? This is temporary. Nothing can kill him."

"Then we shall continue to be watchful," said the Professor, wheeling his chair further into the plane. "Hank, if you would man the cockpit, we should be able to leave."

"Sure, Professor," Hank said, walking to the front of the Blackbird. He sat down in the pilot's chair and made the appropriate announcements. He made a vertical takeoff and brought them to cruising altitude before switching on the autopilot. Then he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and brought out the capped syringe he had plucked from Sinister's unmoving hand.

"Unlock my full potential…" he muttered, gazing at the iridescent blue liquid within. "One injection could double my power…"

…

To be Continued


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Okay, so I'm bad at fight scenes. I'm working on it. Just a heads-up.

Indomitable X-Men

To Me, My X-Men!

Chapter Four

Lights, Camera…

...

 _Tap, tap, tap, tap._ Scott Summers entered the Xavier Institute's lab, feeling his way with a cane, just as Hank McCoy pushed something small into a drawer and closed it. Scott frowned at the noise.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Nothing," Hank said, standing up from his chair. "Uh, the new glasses I designed for you are ready."

Scott had been at the Institute for over two months now, and Hank, along with a scientist named Moira MacTaggert whom he had been corresponding with, was trying to find a way for him to see. They had tried numerous substances for lenses, but Scott's optic blasts had shattered every one of them. He was understandably discouraged at this point, but kept trying on new glasses.

"So, what've you got for me this time?" he asked, following Hank down the hall into the Danger Room. "Diamond? Transparent adamantium?"

"Trans—What?" asked Hank in astonishment. "No, nothing like that. Dr. MacTaggert and I have come up with a ruby-quartz compound that should absorb and dissipate your optic blasts."

"Well, give 'em here," Scott said, switching his cane to his left hand and holding out his right. Hank placed the glasses in the other teen's hand and then got behind him, just in case.

Removing his blindfold, Scott squeezed his eyes shut as he reached up and placed the new glasses on his face. Carefully, he opened his eyes. He saw a flash of red…and then the Danger Room. Whirling around, he gave Hank a quick hug.

"I can see, man!" he said enthusiastically. "I can see, and I'm not destroying everything! I gotta go tell Jean!"

He ran out of the Danger Room, not listening to Hank's protests that they needed to run more tests. However, he had no sooner gotten through the door when he realized that he had no idea where he was going. He knew his way around the mansion pretty well _by sound,_ but everything looked completely unfamiliar.

He turned and walked back into the Danger Room, where Hank was standing with his arms crossed over his chest. "Haha. I forgot that I don't know what anything looks like," Scott said, following Hank back to the lab for his vision tests.

...

Calvin Rankin ran down the streets of Boston, listening in terror to the thundering footsteps of the Sentinel following him. He had been heading up to New York on a tip that there were people who could help him there. However, he had been identified as an unregistered mutant while trying to buy a cheeseburger in Boston, and was now running for his life.

Three MRD vans pulled across the road and officers jumped out. "Put up your hands and come quietly!" one of them called through a bullhorn. "Do not resist or we will fire!"

Calvin ran a hand through his blond hair and looked around wildly. There! A man wearing a power-suppression collar had pressed himself against a building and was trying to stay out of sight. Calvin ran and grabbed the man by his shirt-collar. "Ah know this ain't fair," he said in his Southern Mississippi accent, "but I need to borrow your powers fer a while."

As he released the man, he felt a buzz run through his system, as it always did when he mimicked someone. This time, he had gotten an armored shell. It wouldn't help against the Sentinel, but at least it was bullet-proof.

"Now we're talkin'!" Calvin said, armoring up and rushing the MRD officers. He heard the Sentinel behind him readying a weapon, and knew that he had to be out of there in a hurry if he didn't want to spend the rest of his life in a cage or worse.

In Westchester, New York, Charles Xavier removed a helmet from his head and placed it on his desk. Pressing two fingers to his temple, he called out. _"To me, my X-Men. We have a mission."_

...

As soon as Scott and Hank got the Professor's message, they sprang into action. Well, Hank did, anyway. "Follow me," he said to Scott, pulling him out of his chair. "It appears that we are now being called to the aid of some misfortunate mutant. Are you ready?"

"Well, I took two years of Tae Kwon Do when I was younger," said Scott, trailing a step or two behind Hank. "I don't know if that really prepared me for fighting mardies and giant robots."

"Well, it'll have to suffice," Hank said. "Besides, you have your mutant Gift, don't forget." He opened a door. "In here, please."

"Why?" Scott asked, going in and looking around; savoring being able to look around. It was a long room with lockers on the walls and benches down the center. In one corner, there was a row of shower-stalls. "What's this?"

"This is the men's dressing room," explained Hank. "When we go on missions, we have special protective uniforms that we wear. They also disguise our identities, in case we meet anyone we know." He nodded to a locker. "That one's yours," he said to Scott. "Jean and I designed a uniform for you. If you dislike it, well, you'll have to wait until after the mission to request a new one."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Scott said, going to the locker and opening it.

A minute or two later, he was wearing a blue bodysuit with a cowl covering his head. It was belted at the waist with a yellow belt that was punctuated by an "X" buckle. Over it, he wore a long, grey duster.

"You know," he called to Hank from inside the changing stall, "funnily enough, I only made it to yellow belt when I was taking Tae Kwon Do! Did you know that?"

"I did not," Hank replied. "Blue and yellow are the school colors. I'm also wearing them. Jean's uniform is black and yellow, though."

"Oh. So, what's this banana-shaped thing you gave me?" Scott asked, turning the item over in his hand. "It's grayish and it's got a red streak down the middle?"

"That's a visor," Hank explained unhelpfully. "Put it on instead of your glasses."

Scott shrugged and pulled off his glasses, being sure to close his eyes, of course. He put the visor on instead and looked around. Nothing was different. He stepped out of the stall to show Hank.

"So, how do I look?" he asked.

"Like an X-Man," said Hank, tying a domino mask onto his face.

"And what's this visor thing?" Scott asked, touching it.

"There's a button on the side," Hank explained. "When you press it—don't do it now!—it will release your optic blasts to be used as a weapon. That way you don't have to keep taking your glasses off and putting them back on. Furthermore," he added gesturing to Scott's belt, "there is a pouch on your belt for keeping your glasses in. If you want to look comparatively normal, simply pull the cowl back and tuck it inside your collar, then exchange the visor for your glasses and button the coat."

"Cool," Scott said. "So, does VISOR stand for anything? Like, Vision Interceptor Specializing in Optic Rays?"

"It's…just a visor," Hank said. "Now, come on. We have a mission to go on, if you haven't forgotten." He turned and left the room, Scott following close behind.

At Professor Xavier's office, they found Jean waiting for them at the door. "Took you guys long enough, didn't it?" she said sarcastically.

Scott looked up from watching his feet. "Well, Hank was telling me how to use the vis…Jean?"

"You were expecting someone else?"

Scott swallowed a few times before speaking. "Uh, yeah, well, I never actually _saw_ you before, right? Nice, uh, nice hair. Blonde?" He felt his face heating up in embarrassment. He'd had an idea in his head of what Jean looked like, but the real girl was much more beautiful. If he could have spoken without tripping over his tongue, he might even have told her that.

"It's red," said Jean, shaking her head. "Now, come on. The Professor says that he's gonna give you both detention if you don't get a move on." She turned and went into the office, the two boys following behind her.

Professor Xavier cleared his throat as they entered the room. "Well, now that we're all here," he said, leveling a disapproving look at Scott and Hank, "we can finally get started. Using Cerebro, I have found a mutant in trouble in Boston. His name is Calvin Rankin, but he likes to be known as 'Mimic'."

"Why's that?" Scott asked.

"I was getting to that, Mr. Summers," said the Professor. "Mimic's ability is to copy the Gifts of other mutants around him. Despite this, he is very near to being arrested by the MRD. Your job is to rescue him. Beast?"

"Yes, Professor?" said Beast, standing to attention.

"Prep the Blackbird. You shall be field leader for this mission."

...

In Boston, Calvin had managed to evade the MRD for the moment, and was now pulling up a manhole cover in an alleyway. He ducked down the hole just as an officer rounded the corner.

"I'm on the mutant's trail," the man said into his walkie-talkie. "Get me a Sentinel Tracker here as soon as possible. We're gonna need it."

A few blocks away, another officer opened the back of a van and switched on the machine inside. It let out a mechanical growl, designed to intimidate its quarry, and jumped out of the vehicle. The Sentinel Tracker was lean and wolf-like, with a multiple, glowing optic sensors positioned to give it 360 degree vision. It also had excellent olfactory and auditory sensors, and could reform, if necessary, into a humanoid mode for fighting.

One of the MRD officers opened a hatch in the Tracker's side and placed a scrap of cloth, which had been torn from Calvin's shirt during a fight, inside. The Tracker froze for a moment, computing the information, and then took off in the direction of the manhole that Mimic had gone down. Once there, it compacted itself and squeezed inside, before returning to its normal form and running down the tunnel, three officers following it.

Above Boston, the Blackbird came in for a landing. With the jet's high-speed capabilities, it had taken the X-Men very little time to get from New York to Massachusetts. They landed on top of a wide, flat building and got out to look around.

"Anyone see anything?" Scott asked, glancing around.

"I think it might be over there," said Beast, pointing to where a Sentinel was visible over the tops of some buildings. "Now, remember, we have to do this without getting captured ourselves, so—"

"I'll do my best to not get arrested," said Scott, heading towards a door leading into the building. "Are you coming Hank, Jean? Only way to the ground."

"It's 'Beast' and 'Marvel' when we're on missions," Jean said, bending down to the door and opening the lock with a twist of her mind. "We don't want anyone to recognize us. Actually, we've got to think of a codename for you, too." She opened the door and went through.

They went down three stories and out of the back door, avoiding people who could ask questions on the way. Fortunately, Jean, or Marvel, was able to render them all but invisible by directly influencing people's minds. As soon as they were about to look in the X-Men's direction, they would suddenly remember something they had to do, or somewhere they had to go, and head off elsewhere.

 _"Is this right?"_ Jean wondered. _"We're supposed to protect people, but I'm messing with their minds."_ She shook her head and reordered her thoughts. _"Worry about ethics_ after _the mission, Marvel,"_ she told herself. _"Right now, we've got a Mimic to save."_

The trio ducked down alleyways and vaulted fences, taking the fastest route to the trouble that they could while still remaining undetected. After a few minutes, they were in sight of the MRD vans, and the Sentinel.

Jean pressed two fingers to her temple and focused on one of the officers. "They've chased Mimic down a manhole," she told Scott and Beast. "They have a Sentinel Tracker after him."

"Then we should make haste with speed," Beast said. "Marvel, Basilisk, follow me."

Scott grabbed Beast's arm. "Hey, whoa. Basilisk? I did _not_ agree to that. I'm not a lizard."

"It's the idea of being able to kill with a look that I was attempting to get across," Beast explained. "Basilisks were purported to have a deadly gaze."

"Well, I don't want to kill anyone," Scott protested. "Anyway, I just plain don't like it."

"I don't like it, either," Jean said. "It was a good try, Beast, but something else would be more appropriate. Should we be going now, or are we going to argue until the Sentinels catch Mimic _and_ us?"

"You're right, of course," Beast agreed. "You know where we need to be, so lead the way."

Jean beckoned them to follow her and ran off down a street. She went around a block to avoid the Sentinel and led the other X-Men to an alleyway. There were five MRD officers in the alley, watching the manhole.

"Marvel, knock them out," Beast ordered.

"What?" Jean asked incredulously. "I can't just—"

"We need to save Mimic," said Beast, "so knock them out now!"

Swallowing, Jean again pressed two fingers to her temple and concentrated on the officers. _"Sorry about this,"_ she thought as they crumpled to the ground. She turned to Beast and nodded. The trio raced over to the manhole and ducked inside.

"So, which way?" asked Scott, glancing down both passages leading away from the hole. "Left or right?"

Beast pointed to a laser-burn on one of the walls leading left. "This way," he said, loping off in the direction he had indicated. Scott and Jean followed close behind.

...

Mimic pressed himself against the wall as the Sentinel Tracker edged closer, a stun-dart gun deployed from its side, ready to fire. There was nowhere for him to run. His last stolen power had worn off and there was no one to mimic. He closed his eyes and waited for the sting of a dart.

"Hey, tin dog!" someone yelled. "Here's lookin' at _you!"_ Red light lashed through the tunnel, slicing through the Tracker and blowing it to pieces. Calvin felt multiple powers in the area, and looked up.

In front of him were three teens, a bit younger than him, wearing yellow and blue uniforms of some kind. "Who the hell are y'all?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "The spandex patrol?"

"We're the X-Men!" the girl said, hovering slightly above the ground. "We came to rescue you!"

"Well, I didn't need rescuin'," Mimic said. "I could o' handled it by myself." He brushed past the girl, who had landed on the ground, and stalked off down the pipe.

Jean and Beast looked at each other and shrugged. None of the X-Men had ever been in this situation before, of someone _not_ wanting to join them. Suddenly, Jean sensed angry thoughts, and turned to see Scott grabbing Mimic's shoulder.

"Listen, you!" Scott hissed into the older boy's ear. "You were just rude to Je—Marvel. Now I want you to turn around and say something pol—"

There was a burst of brilliant red light. When it faded, Scott was slumped against the wall, unconscious. Mimic turned to the others, his eyes glowing red. "Anyone else wanna take me on?" he asked.

"Attacking our teammate was not the smartest move you could have made!" Beast said, grasping one of the metal bars in the ceiling and swinging towards Mimic. "Now you'll find out why I am known as _the Beast!"_ He crashed into the other, sending them both rolling through the filthy water. Beast snarled and punched Mimic twice, then was shocked as he snarled back!

Mimic lifted a suddenly meaty fist and punched Beast in the face, sending him to join Scott against the far wall. He whirled on Jean, his eyes still glowing. "How about you, girl? You gonna mess with the Mimic, too?"

Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, Jean shook her head, and Mimic took off down the tunnel, quickly vanishing from sight. When he was gone, she began gently shaking Scott, trying to wake him up. At first she was unsuccessful, but after a minute or so, he moved his head.

"Oof, what happened?" he asked. "Did Mimic apologize to you?"

"No, he didn't," Jean said, moving over to Beast to wake him up. "He knocked you and Hank out and then left. The mission failed, basically." She sighed. "Can you help me with Hank? We need to get out of here before the mardies get here."

…

To be Continued


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Well, I read Secret Wars #4 and feel terrible. Laugh it up, Avengers fans. Laugh it up. Us muties will have our vengeance! We are the future! Ahem. Sorry. I got carried away. Have a chapter.

Indomitable X-Men

To Me, My X-Men!

Chapter Five

Ice, Ice, Baby

...

Bobby Drake stared into the bathroom mirror. "It is _so hot_ in here," he complained, running a comb through his close-cropped brown hair. He had woken up that morning, feeling as if his blanket was smothering him, but no matter what Bobby did, he couldn't seem to get cool.

"Are you even kidding me?" his younger brother, Ronny, called in through the door. "It's mid-December! It's freezing in here!"

"Uh, yeah, I know!" Bobby cracked a grin as he opened the door and walked out. "I was just looking in the mirror, you know?"

Ronny rolled his eyes and ducked past his brother. "Get out of here," he said. "I gotta brush my teeth. Why don't you bug Mom and Dad for a while?" He slammed the door, making Bobby wince at the sound. Bobby recovered, shrugged, and went downstairs.

"Glorious Saturdays!" he sang at the top of his lungs as he bounded into the kitchen. "What's for breakfast? If Mom cooked it, then it's gotta be good!"

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Mrs. Drake said, turning to glance at her oldest son. "Sit down and wait for Ronny, and then we can have breakfast."

"Okay, Mom," Bobby sat down next to his father, who was reading the newspaper. "Hey, Dad, what's going on in the news? World tumbling down around our ears yet?"

"Not quite yet, Bobby," said Mr. Drake. "But yesterday, an unregistered mutant destroyed a Sentinel right here in Boston! The police are looking for him."

"So," Bobby snuck a strip of bacon from the platter on the table, "is he dangerous?" He got up from the table and began rummaging through the refrigerator.

"Most mutants are," his father answered. "Bobby, get out of the fridge! Breakfast is in just a few minutes."

"Sorry," Bobby answered, but made no effort to change his location. "It's just that it's so _hot_ in the kitchen, what with the oven going. Oh, hey," he pulled something out of the refrigerator. "Mom, if we're having these steaks tonight, you'll want to start defrosting them now."

His mother turned with a puzzled expression. "I did defrost them," she said. "Last night."

"Well, they're frozen solid now," Bobby said, placing them on the counter with a _clunk._ "See? Hard as a rock."

Mrs. Drake gasped. "Bobby, your hand!" She pointed, and Bobby gasped as he saw that his right hand was coated with blue frost. All except for the very tips of his fingers, these had turned to clear, glassy ice.

"I…what?" he stuttered, turning pale. "I—Am I?"

"A mutant," Ronny said from where he had just appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. 'You're a mutant, aren't you, Bobby?"

"I don't… I can't be!" said Bobby, wringing his hand as though to scrape the ice off. "I'm not a mutant! I'm just a normal kid!"

Ronny and Bobby stared at each other for a while, neither willing to speak first. Finally, Mr. Drake broke in as the voice of reason.

"Madeline," he said to his wife, "forget our appointments for the day. We're going to take Bobby down to the Mutant Control Agency to have him registered." He turned to his sons. "Get ready, boys. We're going for a drive."

...

"Ohh, we failed!" Scott Summers groaned, trudging along behind his teammates. "How did we fail? This was supposed to be so easy! Sinister's guys did this sort of thing all the time."

"Sinister's goons had the added benefit of being able to forcibly apprehend their quarry," said Hank McCoy, trying his best to not draw attention to his large feet as the X-Men wandered through Boston. "We, however, need to have morality on our side, so we can't risk that sort of thing."

"Will both of you _shut up?_ " Jean Grey said irritably, pushing some of her long, red hair out of her eyes. "It's hard enough trying to make people not notice us _and_ locate the portable Cerebro on board the Blackbird without _also_ listening to you two whining!"

The X-Men had been sent on a mission to recruit a mutant named Mimic who was on the run in Boston. They had found him, but he had not only declined their offer, but had thoroughly trounced them before vanishing. It had taken a toll on the X-Men's collective spirits.

Scott looked around, noticing a gas station and convenience store across the street. "Hey, guys," he said, "what do you say we take a quick break and get some sodas over there? The Blackbird's in stealth mode, so we don't have to worry about anyone finding it."

"I second the motion," Jean said, starting across the street.

"Motion carried," Hank said, arranging his costume to look more like normal clothes and pocketing his mask. "Scott, you may want to remove that cowl and exchange the visor for your glasses."

Scott fixed his uniform and the X-Men went to go buy sodas. While they were paying, a car pulled into the station and a man and two boys got out. They entered the store and the man began talking to the cashier about buying gas.

One of the boys rolled his eyes and shoved his gloved hands into his pockets. "Hey, Dad, I'm gonna get a soda," he said, heading off towards the refrigerators in the back. He opened the door and stuck his head in. "Oh, that's better," he said with evident pleasure. "It's _really_ hot in here!"

Jean leaned over to Scott from where they leaned against the wall and whispered, "I actually thought it was a little chilly in here."

"Maybe he's got a medical condition…or something," said Scott, shrugging.

The teen paid for his soda and then, smirking, he looked around to make sure no one was watching. He couldn't tell that anyone was, but beneath Scott's shades, his eyes followed the other boy's every move. He saw the frost creep up the side of the can.

"The kid's a mutant," he whispered to Jean. "Temperature control, especially in the cold spectrum. A cryokinetic."

"Sweet," said Jean, glancing in the boy's direction. "Think we can talk to him? How is he not wearing a collar?"

"He most likely just manifested his Gift today," Hank broke in. "Either his parents don't know, or—"

"He's on his way to be registered now!" Jean gasped. "Either way, we've got to help him!"

...

Bobby took a long drink of his soda and sighed in relief. This mutation thing was the pits as far as he was concerned. He had always hated summers—well, except for the no-school thing—and an icy mutation was the worst if it meant he couldn't regulate his body heat. He glanced at the ice-cream freezer and absently wondered if he had any more spare change.

 _"Hey, how's it going, New Mutant?"_ a girl's voice said in his head. Bobby jumped, suppressing a yelp, and glanced around. _"Over here,"_ the voice said. _"Us freaks loitering in the corner."_

Bobby looked to the corner near the door and saw three teens in blue and yellow clothes hanging around. One was wearing red shades and a trench coat; one had impressively large hands wrapped around the sandwich he was eating, and the third…

 _Wow. Cute girl,_ Bobby thought unintentionally. He immediately winced as the sound of microphone feedback lanced through his skull.

 _"I'm not currently looking for a boyfriend,"_ the voice said. The red-head across the store lifted a hand and wiggled her fingers in a small wave. _"Yeah. That's me. Want to come over here and talk to us? We're mutants, just like you."_

Bobby's eyes widened, then narrowed as he realized that he had sort of known from the second the voice had manifested in his head. He looked around in a small panic. "I—"

 _"Don't speak aloud,"_ the girl said, gesturing for him to come closer. _"I can hear/think/see you just fine without that. Just think/communicate to me until you get over here."_

 _"I don't want to go over there,"_ thought Bobby, shaking his head. _"I don't want to be a mutant. I'm on my way to get registered. They'll take away my powers, and everything will just go back to normal. Please, leave me alone."_

It is next to impossible to _think_ a sigh, but Bobby got a mental transmission from the girl that definitely gave him that sort of impression. _"Okay, we_ really _need to talk,"_ she thought to him. _"Look, we don't even have to be strangers. I'm Jean Grey, and you're Bobby Drake. Now, will you come talk to me and my friends?"_

Bobby glanced out the window. His Dad was cursing at the gas-pump, and his Mom was covering Ronny's ears while he protested. Bobby had some time. He walked over to the group of teens.

"Hey, guys," he said nervously. "So, you're all mutants, huh?"

"Wow, Jean! You're good," said the guy with the glasses.

"Thanks, but it was harder than it looks," Jean said, rubbing her forehead. "I'm gonna need an aspirin later." She turned back to Bobby. "Er, hi, Bobby. It's nice to talk out loud. Um…this," she gestured to sunglasses-boy, "is Scott, and this," the one with big hands and a big sandwich, "is Hank. We're the X-Men."

Hank swallowed the food in his mouth. "Marvel, we need to remain undercover when in public," he said. "We have codenames for a reason. Please use them."

"Scott doesn't have a codename yet," Jean retorted. "Anyway, how are we going to get people to trust us if we're calling ourselves 'Beast' and 'Marvel'?"

Hank shrugged. "Fair point," he said, turning to Bobby. "So, young man—"

"You can _not_ be that much older than me."

"We represent the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters," Hank went on as though he had not been interrupted. "We would like to speak to you, and your parents, about the possibility of you attending there."

...

In New York, a telepath sat before a mutant detecting device. Removing the headpiece, he stood and left the room. Standing outside was another man in a long, purple cape.

"Milord, I have detected a mutant in Boston," the telepath said.

"Ah, yes," said the man in the cape. "Mimic, correct? Destiny said that he would be arriving soon."

"No, Sir," said the telepath. "Mimic has—ah—gone off the grid. This is an entirely new mutant. A cryokinetic. I believe that it would be to our advantage to get to him before…our _friend_ does."

"Very well," said the man in the cape, leaning out of the shadows to reveal a deep red helmet covering his head. "Send in the Toad."

…

To be Continued


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Sorry I didn't update yesterday. My flash drive was being stupid.

Indomitable X-Men

To Me, My X-Men!

Chapter Six

Control Collar

...

"Uh, I'm not sure I want to go to a mutie school," Bobby Drake said nervously. The X-Men winced at his use of the slur. "I just want to get rid of my powers and live like a normal, _legal_ person!"

"You don't want one of those power-control collars. Trust me," said Hank McCoy, swallowing the last of his sandwich. "Contrary to popular belief, they do not completely remove all vestiges of mutation. Rather, they control the best parts, and often leave the uncomfortable parts intact."

"What do you mean?" Bobby asked, furrowing his brow.

"Well, for instance," Hank said, "on the occasion I had once to wear one, the collar blocked large portions of my intellect, as well as my advanced reflexes and agility, but left me my inhumanly large feet. The result was that I became incredibly clumsy, unable to perform even the simplest tasks without stumbling, while I felt as though I was wandering in a fog."

"Huh," Bobby cupped his chin in one hand thoughtfully.

"I didn't know that you wore a collar for a while, Beast," Jean Grey said, placing one hand on Hank's shoulder to try and comfort him. "What happened?" She winced with embarrassment and recovered. "I mean— you don't have to talk about it if you don't want."

"No, it's perfectly fine," Hank said. "My parents didn't want to register me, but of course I was found by a Sentinel a few days after my powers manifested. The MRD found me and captured me. However, the Professor had finished Cerebro shortly before, and managed to rescue me. I'm eternally in his debt now."

"Hey, Bobby!" someone said. The group turned to see Bobby's brother, Ronny, standing in the convenience store door. "It's time to go," said Ronny. "Dad finally got the gas pump working."

"Yeah, uh, can you ask him and Mom to step in here for a sec?" Bobby asked. "These guys," he gestured to the X-Men," are from a prep school. They want to talk to me about maybe going there."

"Yeah, hi, my name's Scott Summers," Scott said, stepping forward. "I'm a student at the Xavier Institute for gifted Youngsters," he leaned in next to Ronny's ear. "Probable valedictorian," he said in a confidential whisper. Straightening up, Scott shook Ronny's hand and led him over to the others.

"These are my friends, Hank McCoy and Jean Grey," he said. "We came up to Boston looking for Robert—oh, sorry— _Bobby,_ because he qualifies for our school. We were actually going to head to your house next when we ran into you here! Cool coincidence, huh?"

"Jehosophat!" whispered Hank, his eyes wide. "He's good at this."

At that moment, Mr. Drake walked in. "Ronny, I sent you in here to get your brother," he said, crossing his arms. "What's taking so long?"

Bobby jumped forward. "Hey, Dad!" he said. "These guys are from a school in, uh…" He glanced at Scott. "Where did you say it was, again?"

"Upstate New York."

"Yeah, it's upstate New York," Bobby said, nodding. "Anyway, they want me to attend. It's, like, one of those ultra-private places."

"Is that right?" Mr. Drake asked. "Why did they show up here?"

"We were actually going to head to your house next," said Hank. "It was pure luck that we found you _here_." He pulled his glasses out of his pocket and positioned them on his nose. Stepping forward, he stuck out a large hand for Mr. Drake to shake. "My name is Hank McCoy," he said. "I am top of the class at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters."

Mr. Drake shook Hank's hand, and then looked down at it. "Er, well," he said, "this is awkward, but just today we discovered that Bobby…may be a mutant. I suppose that that would have some sort of impact on his acceptance into…what school was it again?"

"The Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters," Hank said. "It's in Salem Center, in New York. It's run by Professor Charles Xavier." He handed Mr. Drake a card that he pulled from a pocket of his jacket. "In any case, Professor Xavier harbors no dislike for mutants. Neither do any of us." He turned to the others. "Right?"

"Oh, sure," Scott said, nodding.

"Absolutely," agreed Jean.

"Hmm…" Mr. Drake cast a suspicious look at the group. "Well, we're on our way to register Bobby. Maybe we could set up a meeting with this…Professor at a later date. Come on, boys." He turned and left, trailing Bobby and Ronny behind him.

As they drove away, the X-Men stood in silence for a moment.

"Our second failure of the day," Scott said finally. "Well, I guess there's nothing we can do about it. Jean? You find the Blackbird yet?"

"I've got a lock on it," Jean said, "but I don't want to give up on Bobby Drake just yet. Maybe we could find them, and I could wipe his parents' minds of knowing he's a mutant—"

"And then he would never trust us because we wiped his parents' minds," Hank interrupted. "It's not a good plan, Jean. I agree that we shouldn't let the Mutant Control Agency get their hands on him, but we need a sound plan first."

...

In the Drake's car, Bobby sat in the back seat, drawing frost patterns on the window. He wasn't certain if he believed the X-Men, but he had to admit, getting a collar did sound pretty bad.

"Hey, Mom," he said, "how come I have to get registered?"

Mrs. Drake sighed. "Because, Bobby," she said, turning in her seat to look at her son, "if we didn't register you, then the MRD would send Sentinels after you, and after us too. Maybe mutant splinter groups might try and recruit you, and I don't want to see you become a terrorist."

"C'mon, Mom!" said Bobby. "Can you really see _me_ as a terrorist?"

He never heard her reply, because at that moment, the car went skidding to the side, almost going right off the road. Mr. Drake cursed as he turned on the windshield wipers to try and clear the green muck that had suddenly covered the front of the car. When they refused to move, he braked hard, and the car came to a screeching halt.

Almost as soon as the vehicle stopped, the back door was pulled open by a young man, probably in his twenties. He wore a red bandana emblazoned with a six-fingered hand over his dreadlocked hair, and a denim vest over a black T-shirt, exposing his mottled green arms.

"Hey, bro," he said to Bobby in a thin, reedy voice. "This is a rescue mission! Come with me!"

…

To be Continued


	8. Chapter 8

AN: To the guest known as Wolf Warren, thanks for reviewing. This story only has a few more chapters left, but then I'm posting one that's even better, in my humble opinion. Thanks everybody.

Indomitable X-Men

To Me, My X-Men!

Chapter Seven

T-O-A-D

...

"Who the hell are you?" Mr. Drake demanded of the green-skinned man who had just forced his car off the road in an attempt to 'rescue' his son, Bobby Drake.

"I'm the Toad, normie!" he said, sneering. "I'm a member of the Brotherhood of Mutants." He saluted with a webbed, four-fingered hand. "We're the future!"

"This is exactly what I was just talking about," said Mrs. Drake, brandishing the snow brush at Toad.

"Yeah, point taken, Mom," Bobby said. Blue frost coated his right hand as he reached out and grasped Toad's arm. The other mutant hissed as the cold penetrated his tissues.

"What're you doing, bro?" he snarled. "You want the flatscans to collar you like a dog for the rest of your life? You're better than that, man! You could be a _god!"_

A twisting stream of red energy struck Toad in the side, knocking him off of his feet. Bobby turned to see the teens he had been speaking to earlier standing in the middle of the road, garbed in unusual costumes.

"Haven't you ever read Greco-Roman mythology?" Hank asked, grinning. "Being a god is no fun whatsoever."

"What are you…supposed to be…dressed like?" Toad asked, propping himself on his elbows and gasping for breath.

"We're the X-Men," Scott said, "defenders of humanity and innocent mutants."

"Well, if we're talking mythology," said Toad, gathering his legs under him, "then you look like a Cyclops!" He jumped, the leap taking him clear over Scott's head. A long rope shot from his mouth, wrapping around Scott's neck and pulling him to the ground. In an instant, Jean was at his side, telekinetically removing the tendril.

"Is this his _tongue?"_ she asked, wrinkling her nose. "Gross!"

Hank, or Beast, leapt at Toad, barreling into the amphibious mutant before he had a chance to react. Toad's tongue came unwrapped from Scott's throat as Beast punched him in the face.

"That was…possibly the most…disgusting thing…that has ever happened to me," Scott gasped, wiping slime off of his cowl. "By the way, that includes getting captured by Gorgeous George." Standing up, he looked at Toad and hit the firing button on his visor. The red burst of energy exploded from his eyes, but Toad rolled, and the blast hit Beast instead, knocking him back ten feet.

"Oh, jeez, I'm sorry!" Scott apologized frantically, rushing to Hank's side. That left Jean to face down Toad.

"Hey, X-Girl," Toad said mockingly. "What are your powers? Being a traitor? You know, you guys look like the Uncle Toms of the mutants."

"Yeah, well," Jean said, pink telekinetic energy rippling around her hands, "better than being a toad." She flung her hands out, blasting Toad into the air. He landed on the road forty feet away.

"You…win this round," he gasped, his wind gone. "Take the…kid. I'm…gone!" He rolled over onto his back and let out a long, high-pitched moan. "Ooh! Never…again!"

"You!" Jean turned to see Bobby's younger brother, Ronny, pointing at them. "You Xavier…whatever people!" he said angrily. "You're mutants!"

Jean walked over to him and crossed her arms. "Yes, we are," she said. "Got a problem with that?"

By now, Mr. and Mrs. Drake had also gotten out of the car. "Get away from my sons, freak!" Mr. Drake said, pushing Jean back a step. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the business card that Beast had handed him. "I know who you are and where you live," he said. "I'm reporting all of you to the mardies!"

"You can't!" Jean gasped, grasping at Mr. Drake's arm. "We're not bad! We just want to help!"

He shook her off. "You've done enough."

Behind his parents, Bobby was making faces at Jean and tapping his head. Ignoring whatever Mr. Drake was saying at the moment, Jean took a deep breath and dived into Bobby's psyche.

 _"What is it?"_ she asked.

 _"How good are you with fixing up people's brains?"_ Bobby asked in return.

 _"I haven't killed anyone yet,"_ Jean replied. _"Why do you ask?"_

Bobby ran a hand through his spiky, brown hair and let out a reluctant breath. _"You need to wipe my parents' minds,"_ he thought to Jean, _"and Ronny's, too."_

Jean's eyes widened. _"Bobby, no!"_ she protested. _"I can't_ do _that!"_

 _"It's the only way to make sure that they don't call the Mutant Response Division on you!"_ explained Bobby. _"I don't want you to wipe their whole memories. Just make sure that they don't know any of us are mutants."_

Jean sighed. _"Just remember,"_ she warned, _"you gave me permission."_ She pressed her fingers to her temples and Mr. Drake immediately stopped ranting. He, along with Ronny and Mrs. Drake, stood absolutely still as Jean walked through their memories, removing this and fixing that, until she had a halfway-decent explanation for what had happened that did not involve mutants. When she was finished, she looked sadly at Bobby. _"No turning back now."_ She released her hold on the Drake family and took a step back.

Mr. Drake shook his head and looked confused for a moment as the new memories sorted themselves out. "What was I saying?" he asked. "Oh, that's right. Thanks for chasing off that mutant kid, Miss Grey. We'll definitely be considering sending Bobby to your school. Uh, when could we make an appointment with the principal?"

"He likes to be called the headmaster," Jean said with a weak smile. "You should probably call him, but he should be able to see you within a week!" She leaned in confidentially. "The school's just getting up and running, so any students are good news for us!"

Chuckling, Mr. Drake stepped back. "Well, thanks again, Miss Grey," he said. "Bobby will be seeing you soon, I imagine." He turned to his family. "Boys, get in the car. Time to head home." The Drakes got into their car, Bobby taking a moment to wink and nod at Jean before clambering in and strapping down. The vehicle rattled to life and set off down the road, windshield-wipers going at full blast in order to scrape Toad's slime off.

Jean turned to where Scott and Hank were standing and waiting for her, their uniforms fixed to look like normal, if slightly eccentric, clothing.

"Nicely handled," Scott said with admiration. "That was pretty cool."

"Let's just get back to the Blackbird," Jean muttered, walking past the two boys.

...

A few hours later, the X-Men had returned to the Institute and were being debriefed. Jean was curled up on a chair at the back of Professor Xavier's office, while Scott and Hank actually did the talking.

When they were finished, the Professor was silent for a moment, deep in thought. "Hmm, this is disturbing," he said finally. "This…'Toad'…said that he was a member of a group, correct?"

"The Brotherhood of Mutants, yes," Hank said. "Is that important?"

"Yes, it is," said the Professor. "It implies that he was working for someone."

"Big deal!" said Scott. "There's gotta be a million mutant splinter groups who hate flatscans! Maybe we should be happy they're doing us a favor!"

"Scott! We do not put ourselves above baseline humanity in this school!" Professor Xavier reprimanded. "We are not superior to anyone else. Merely different, do you understand?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Scott said, scuffing the toe of his boot on the carpet.

"Good," said the Professor. "In any case, the news of this 'Brotherhood' is disturbing because they found Bobby Drake so easily. It implies that they have some sort of mutant locator, perhaps one similar to Cerebro."

"We'll be certain to ruminate on that, Professor," said Hank. "Now, with your permission, we should change out of our uniforms. Scott?"

"I'm coming," said Scott, turning. He and Hank left the office, leaving Jean to speak with the Professor.

"What's on your mind, Jean?" asked Professor Xavier. "You are practically _seeping_ with unease and frustration."

Jean sat up and sighed heavily. "I just keep thinking about how I altered the Drakes' memories, sir," she said. "I know it had to be done, but it just felt so wrong! I keep thinking that there should have been another way."

"Oh, Jean," said the Professor, smiling sadly, "we cannot go through life thinking about the 'should-have-been'. All we can do is to do our best with what we have at the moment. Is that what you did?"

"Yeah," Jean said, wiping her eyes, "but—"

"No buts," Professor Xavier said. "If you did your best, then that is all I can ask of you, and you have made me proud. However," he opened a drawer in his desk and began rifling through some papers, "if it makes you feel better, then I hereby add a new class to the curriculum!" He looked up and raised a thin eyebrow. "Unofficially, of course, since I have to allow the state to examine my curriculum every year." He looked back down and continued looking through his files. "Where is the blasted thing? Ah, here!" The Professor pulled a file from the drawer and placed it on his desk. "Miss Grey," he said, "how would you like to take a class in mutant ethics?"

"I would love to!" Jean said, cheering up and taking the file. Her face fell again for a moment. "But, won't Scott and Hank be mad at me for getting a new class introduced?"

Professor Xavier chuckled. "Henry will probably be grateful to you forever for this, and since that's two out of three, Scott will just have to learn to live with it. Besides, I am certain that you two can bring him around."

"Thanks, Professor," said Jean.

...

Toad lay on his bed in the brownstone building in Brooklyn that served as the Brotherhood's headquarters. After driving back from Boston, he had not checked in with his superiors in the basement, since he felt absolutely certain that he would be punished for his failure, and wanted to delay that for as long as possible.

Suddenly, the metal frame of his bed began vibrating. Toad tensed and took a flying leap off of the bed, sticking to the wall on the other side of the room. "I'm sorry!" he wailed. "I meant to take the other dude back, but there were these guys calling themselves the 'X-Men', and they outnumbered me!"

"X-Men?" the draped figure in Toad's doorway mused. "Well, it seems that our 'friend' is getting bolder." His helmeted head snapped up and two glowing eyes fixed on Toad from within the shadows. "No punishment…this time," he said. "Clearly the failure was not _entirely_ your fault. However, you are to run a full training regimen in the basement. Level Six."

"I can't do Level Six, man!" Toad panicked, falling off the wall and landing on his back. "It's gonna pulverize me!"

"Then so be it," said the cloaked man. "I must warn you, Toad. The next recruiting mission could very well be your last chance, before I demote you to more…menial tasks."

"I won't let you down, sir!" said Toad, saluting. He dropped to a crouch and hopped out of the room to get pulverized in the basement.

…

To be continued…


	9. Chapter 9

Indomitable X-Men

To Me, My X-Men!

Chapter Eight

Coffee- -Go-Go

...

"Oh, Ze-elda!" sang Scott Summers as he and the other incognito X-Men blew into their favorite coffee shop in Salem Center, Coffee-A-Go-Go, or as it said on the sign, Coffee- -Go-Go. "We've got someone we want you to meet. Also, it's wonderful to _see_ you today!"

"Good to see you too, Scott," said Zelda, the barista, as she cleaned a coffee machine behind the counter, facing away from the group. "Be with ya in a sec. I just gotta finish cleaning this thing."

"Oh, well," Scott leaned against the counter, "if my favorite _black-haired_ barista is too busy to let me _take a look_ at the menu, then I'm going to have to _see_ if I can get my coffee somewhere else!"

Zelda gasped and dropped her cleaning cloth, skillfully catching it just before it hit the ground. Whirling, she leaned against the counter across from Scott and grinned at him. "They found some glasses that let ya see?" she asked.

"Sure did," Scott said. "I mean, I can only see in red, but that's better than not being able to see at all, right?"

"Right!" agreed Zelda. "Oh, my gosh! Ya gotta tell Carly when she gets here! She'll be so happy for ya!"

Scott shifted uneasily. "I don't know, Zelda," he said. "Wouldn't that be kinda like rubbing it in? I don't want to make her jealous or anything."

"Carly Crocker, jealous of someone else?" said Zelda, raising an eyebrow. "Are we talking about the same person? She'll love this!" She leaned around Scott. "Now, who'd ya wanna introduce me to?"

"Oh, yeah," Scott said, standing up. "Zelda, this is the newest student at the Xavier School, Bobby Drake. Bobby, this is Zelda. She's cool."

Bobby, who had just arrived at the school that day, stepped forward and leaned across the counter. _"Enchante, Mademoiselle,"_ he said in a terrible French accent. "It's so nice to meet someone who's as good-looking as I am."

Laughing, Zelda swatted a hand in Bobby's general direction. "Well, aren't _you_ a charmer?" she said sarcastically. "So, what'll it be?"

"Uh, regular coffee," Bobby decided. "Actually, you know what? Make that an iced coffee," he corrected himself.

"And make it a decaf," Hank added from behind Bobby. "We don't need this fellow bouncing off the walls later when I'm trying to get homework done."

"We have homework?" Bobby asked, turning around. "It's a boarding school, but we still get homework?"

"What did you think those papers were that Professor Xavier gave us after class?" asked Jean. "They weren't tickets to Les Mis."

"I dunno," said Bobby. "Not homework."

Everyone chuckled, and the X-Men finished ordering their coffee before heading to a booth at the back of the shop and sitting down. Hank reached into his backpack and pulled out a few papers, as well as a flat, gift-wrapped box decorated for Christmas.

"Who's that for?" Bobby asked.

"It's Carly's Christmas present," said Hank. "I'm not going to be able to see her on Christmas, so I'm giving it to her now."

"Oh," said Bobby. He leaned over to Jean. "Were we all supposed to bring this Carly chick a present?"

"Don't call girls 'chicks'," Jean said, "and no. She's Beast's girlfriend."

"Hank's got a _girlfriend?"_ Bobby said in shock. He turned to Hank, wide-eyed. "Dude, how did _you_ get a girlfriend? You're, like, half nerd and half hairy thing!"

"Well," Hank said calmly, "I did _not_ insult her appearance. I cultivated a friendship and it ended up turning into something more."

"Will you listen to him?" Bobby said to Scott. "He sounds like Mister Spock!"

"Yeah, and he's also the _only_ X-Man to have a girlfriend," Scott pointed out. "Maybe you should take some tips from him!"

Bobby looked as though he was about to protest, but thought better of it at the last moment and sat down quietly and grumpily. A few moments later, a bell jingled as the door opened, and Bobby heard a quiet voice asking a question.

"They're in the usual booth," Zelda replied.

"Thanks," said the voice. There was a _'tap, tap, tap'_ coming closer to the booth the X-Men were seated in, and when it stopped, it was right next to Bobby's seat. "Hi, guys," the voice said.

"Hello, Carly," Hank said, getting up. "How are you doing today?"

"I'm doing great, Hank," she said, allowing him to help her into the booth. She was a pretty girl with brown hair and milky, green eyes. She carried a white stick to help her get around. Not the kind of girl Bobby would have gone after, but then, most of the girls Bobby went after weren't exactly the kind of girl his mother would approve of.

"So, we have two pieces of news for you," said Hank, sliding into the booth next to Carly. "First, we have a new student up at the Institute. This is Bobby Drake. Bobby, this is Carly Crocker."

"Hey there," said Bobby, giving a little wave.

"Hello, Bobby," Carly said, smiling in his direction. "It's nice to meet you." She turned to Hank. "So, what's the second piece of news?"

"That's for Scott to say," Hank said.

"Scott?" asked Carly.

"Oh, yeah," said Scott. "Well, the doctors we've been going to finally found a substance that filters the whatchamacallems correctly and made me a pair of glasses out of it. So, I can see now."

"That's great!" Carly said. "So, you won't have to worry about blowing stuff up when you look at it anymore?"

"Nope," Scott said, grinning. Bobby fell out of the booth and scrambled to his feet.

"Wait a second," he said, pointing at Carly, "she knows about us? She knows that we're…" he lowered his voice, "…that we're mutants?"

"Of course I know!" Carly said indignantly. "I'm not a prejudiced bigot like most people these days! Besides," her voice softened, "I've known Hank since before he was an X-Man. Of course he'd tell me when he went to become a super hero!"

"Well, ah, we're not quite super heroes," Hank corrected. "Technically, we're freedom-fighters."

"Do you have powers?" Carly asked.

"Yes," replied Hank.

"Do you wear costumes?"

"…Yes."

"Do you fight evil?"

"I suppose, but—"

"No 'but's!" Carly said, holding up one finger. "You guys are _totally_ super heroes! Stop trying to deny it."

"You win, as usual, my dear," Hank said, giving Carly a kiss on the cheek. "Oh, I almost forgot. I have something for you!" He picked up the wrapped box from the table and handed it to her. "My parents are coming to visit on Christmas," he explained. "So, since I will not be able to visit you then, I'm giving you your present now."

"Thanks, Hank," Carly said, returning his kiss. She ran her hands over the textured wrapping paper before opening it and taking out the flat package inside. It was a CD case. On it, in both Roman letters and Braille, was written 'Shakespeare's Sonnets'. Carly ran her finger over the Braille and smiled. "How did you find this?" she asked.

"Well… I didn't," said Hank, blushing slightly. "I couldn't find an audio edition of Shakespeare's Sonnets anywhere, so I…er…recorded my own."

"So that's what you were doing in the lab all those nights!" Scott said, reaching across the table to lightly punch Hank in the arm. "This guy," he began explaining to Carly. "Every night, he misses the call for lights out, so I go down to the lab to remind him that superhuman sleeplessness is _not_ one of his mutations. Anyway, every night I open the door to the lab, and he starts shoving stuff in drawers and slamming them shut!"

"I didn't _mean_ to act mysterious!" Hank protested, thinking of the vial of blue serum back in his locked drawer in the lab. "I just wanted to keep it a surprise. I was worried that someone might accidentally let something slip."

Bobby groaned. "You realize that you actually talk, like, the most out of all of us, right, Beasty-boy?"

"Actually, I'm pretty sure that Scott does," said Carly.

"Yeah, whatever," said Scott, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head. "I love you too, Carly."

Carly pointed in Scott's direction and began to speak, but a ringing interrupted her.  
"Ooh, sorry. That's me," Jean said, digging in her purse. She pulled out an older-style flip-phone and opened it. When she saw who it was, she sighed. "Guys, it's Professor Xavier."

"Ten bucks says he wants us back at the X-Mansion," Bobby said as Jean answered the phone.

"We are _not_ calling it the 'X-Mansion'," said Scott. "That's stupid."

" _I_ thought it was clever," Bobby muttered, nursing his iced coffee.

Jean hung up her phone. "The Prof's picked up a couple of mutant signatures in Chicago," she said. She waited until Bobby and Scott were done groaning before continuing. "One of them is probably Toad."

…

To be continued…


	10. Chapter 10

AN: So, this is the second-to-last chapter, if anyone's still reading this. I had fun writing it, and you all are going to have to wait two weeks for the last chapter because I'm going out of town. After that, though, there will be a second Indomitable story, if anyone cares to read it.

...

Indomitable X-Men

To Me, My X-Men!

Chapter Nine

The Avenging Angel

...

Torpid ran, panting, down the streets of Chicago. The young mutant's overly large hands flailed wildly through the air as she attempted to escape the horror coming for her. _"Mutant apprehension in progress,"_ droned the Sentinel chasing her. Torpid had been scrounging for food when the android had detected her, and now she was running for her life and freedom.

The three-foot-tall, seventeen year old girl ducked down an alleyway, eyes pointed down, searching for a way out. Finally, she saw it—a manhole, leading down to the sewers. Torpid pulled off her thick, rubber gloves in order to get a better grip, and began attempting to pry the cover up. She was too slow. There was a heavy clanking sound as the thirty-foot-tall Sentinel rounded the corner, one hand raised and ready to deliver a stun blast. _"Mutant apprehension in progress,"_ it droned for what seemed like the millionth time.

Closing her eyes, Torpid awaited the tingling sensation that would mean the beginning of her life in a cage—but it never came. Instead, there was a whistle, and the shrieking sound of metal cutting through metal. She opened her eyes to see the Sentinel reeling backwards with a _sword,_ of all things, stuck through its head!

"Let vengeance be done!" a voice howled, coming from seemingly everywhere at once. There was a flurry of white, and when it cleared, a young man was standing in front of Torpid, offering her a hand to help her up.

Torpid shook her head and got up herself, retrieving her gloves and getting a good look at her savior. He was dressed in a medieval tunic with a Roman breastplate over it. A sheath for the sword currently stuck in the Sentinel's head was belted at his waist, and he wore a gladiator's helmet with a face mask, through which could be glimpsed his gleaming blue eyes.

However, his clothes were not the strange part. The strange part was the two long, feathered, snow-white wings that rose above his back, giving him an unearthly appearance.

"You all right?" he asked. Torpid nodded, and the young man smiled. "Good. Everything's gonna be okay. I'm the Avenging Angel. I'm here to help."

 _"Hostile combatant detected,"_ the Sentinel grated, removing the blade from its head and dropping it on the ground. _"New directive: Engage and capture combatant."_ It held out a hand to fire a laser, the sword-cut in its head sparking eerily. _"Surrender or be destroyed. There is no alternative."_

"There's always an alternative!" the Angel said, flapping his wings hard. Getting a bit of height, he dove between the Sentinel's legs, snatching up his sword as he did so. Torpid gasped as he narrowly avoided a blast from the robot's shoulder-mounted particle cannon. "Vengeance!" he yelled, slashing down with his sword and severing the Sentinel's head. The android rocked back and forth for a long moment, finally collapsing with an ear-shattering crash.

The Avenging Angel landed by Torpid, folding his wings behind his back. "The mardies should be showing up any second," he said. "We've gotta get you out of here. Where do you live?"

Torpid pointed to the manhole and made a motion to signal that he should pry it up. The Angel clicked his tongue disapprovingly and shook his head.

"That's no good," he said, starting to pry the cover up with his sword. "I'll help you down there for now, but as soon as possible, you should head to Cabrini Green. There's a building there that has 'die Mutante' written on it. It sounds bad, but it's actually German—'the mutant'. Knock on the door and ask for Spyke, okay?"

Torpid nodded gratefully and grasped the manhole cover as it finally rose from its place, helping the Angel to move it aside. She held out one gloved hand, and the Angel grasped it and shook it firmly. "See you soon, kid," he said, helping her down into the hole. "Good luck."

When Torpid had vanished down the sewer line, the Angel shifted the manhole cover back into place and took off, flapping his wings. As he got high in the air he resisted, as he always did, the urge to buzz the Willis Tower. "Someday," he muttered to himself. For now, he could not take the risk of being seen.

Swooping towards a high-rise, the Angel landed, balancing carefully, on the balcony outside the open window of a penthouse apartment. He quietly slipped inside and took off his helmet, releasing a cascade of shoulder-length blond hair. Putting the helmet down on his bed, he quickly changed clothes. Once done, he had completely changed from the Avenging Angel into the heir to Worthington Industries, seventeen-year-old Warren Kenneth Worthington III.

Folding up his wings as small as he could, Warren pulled a leather harness from his closet and proceeded to buckle it on. The harness was built in such a way as to keep his wings folded and unnoticeable, as long as he wore his customary trench coat over them. This coat, a black coat in a decorative faux-military style, Warren now took from its hanger and buttoned it on, covering his wings completely. He winced at the slight discomfort before opening his door and heading out to the dining room.

"Ah, Warren," his father, Warren Worthington, Jr., said as he walked into the room. "I didn't think you were going to show up."

"I almost didn't," Warren said, sitting down at the other end of the table from his father. "I'm still angry about your decision. I just don't think it's right."

"Don't be so naïve," said the elder Worthington. "Mutants are sick. The sooner we find a cure for these people, the better."

A servant swept in and placed a plate of fried chicken in front of Warren. He looked at the cooked chicken wings in disgust for a long moment before calling the man back. "Uh, Edwin?" he asked. "Do you think I could just have a salad tonight?"

"Certainly, sir," Edwin said, removing the chicken. Warren nodded his thanks and turned back to his father.

"Have you ever considered that maybe mutants aren't sick, Dad?" he demanded. "Maybe this is all perfectly natural—the next step in evolution!"

"Would the next step in evolution be so disgusting?" Worthington said, calmly taking a sip of his wine. "Remind me to take you down to the Mutant Response Division cells someday. The deformities…" he shook his head. "It's pitiful."

Warren shifted in his seat, thinking of his own extra appendages. He thanked his stars, and not for the first time, that his father did not know about them. He was all but certain that the elder Worthington would not hesitate to throw even his own son into an MRD cage, to be experimented on like a lab rat. The thought made Warren nauseous.

"I gotta go," he said, pushing his chair away from the table and standing up. "I promised some of my friends that I'd meet them tonight. Can we finish this tomorrow?"

"Of course," said Worthington. He got up from the table and walked over to his son, placing his hand on the young man's shoulder, which made Warren flinch. "You know, if something's bothering you, I'd like you to tell me about it."

"Yeah, sure, Dad," Warren said, shrinking away from his father's touch.

"You can tell me anything, you know that, right?"

Warren looked into his father's eyes and offered a false smile. "Yeah, I know," he lied before leaving. He went back to his room and changed back into his Avenging Angel costume. Opening his window, he dove from the balcony. He turned his fall into a graceful glide and turned, heading towards Cabrini Green.

…

To be concluded…


	11. Chapter 11

AN: Research said that Cabrini Green, Chicago, was a bad neighborhood. If this is incorrect, and you happen to live there, please don't get offended. Assume that it's like Hell's Kitchen, NYC, which is still a bad neighborhood in the comics, but not in real life.

Indomitable X-Men

To Me, My X-Men!

Chapter Ten

Mine! No, Mine!

...

The Avenging Angel landed gracefully in front of a moldering apartment building in Cabrini Green, Chicago. The area had always been poor, but once, a long time ago, there had been schools and humanitarian aid. Now, it was just another inner city area, destroyed by street gangs and thugs. Still, the building with the graffito reading "die Mutante" (German for "the mutant") was one of the safest buildings in the area, simply for the reason that no one would dare to attack it, or any of the inhabitants.

Angel walked up to the young, dark-skinned, blond-haired man skateboarding on the sidewalk and high-fived him. "Wasabi?" he said, continuing their inside joke.

"Not muchi," the other guy answered. "How's it going, Angel?"

"Pretty good, Spyke," Angel said, throwing an arm around his friend's shoulders. "So, I sent a kid over here earlier. Did she actually get here?"

"If you mean Torpid, then yeah," said Spyke. "She accidentally paralyzed Refrax for a few minutes, but he's all right now. No harm, no foul, right, man?"

"Right," agreed Angel. Then he did a double-take. "Wait. Paralyzed? How'd she do that?"

"It's in her hands," Spyke explained. "Whenever she makes skin-to-skin contact with anyone, she paralyzes them. It's pretty cool, but she has to wear gloves most of the time."

Angel nodded thoughtfully, as he walked towards the building. He was jolted out of his thoughts by Spyke's voice.

"Oh, dude, I almost forgot to tell you something."

Angel turned to where Spyke was picking his skateboard up off the sidewalk. "Yeah?" he asked. "What is it?"

"Past couple of days, this weird, little, green guy's been asking for you," Spyke explained. "He says his name's…Frog? Toad? Anyway, he represents some kind of mutant freedom fighter's group. Wants you to join."

"Yeah, not happening," Angel said, shaking his head and chuckling. "I join a mutant group, and my Dad finds out that I'm a mutant. That happens, and _'die Mutante Haus'_ goes away."

"Well, you can explain that to him, man," said Spyke, pointing down the street. "He's heading this way now."

"Gah!" Angel slapped a hand to his forehead and groaned. "This is _not_ what I need right now," he muttered. "I just wanted to get the weekly progress report from Velocidad, hang out with Spyke for a while, and go home."

"Hey, bro!" said Toad as he drew even with Spyke and Angel. "Glad I caught you! Is this, like, a bad time?"

Angel pasted a fixed smile on his face and shook Toad's webbed hand. "It's never a bad time to help out a fellow mutant in need!" he said, a bit too enthusiastically. Behind Toad, Spyke shook his head.

" _Roll it back about a thousand notches, dude,"_ he mouthed. Angel made a face, and Toad glanced behind himself.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Nothing!" said Angel. "Spyke over there was just being a joker, weren't you, Spyke?"

"Nope," said Spyke.

"Jerk," Angel tossed back before turning back to Toad. "So, what is it you want?"

"Uh, right…" Toad's voice became tight, as though he were trying to remember a speech he had memorized. "I represent an elite group of mutants, known as the Brotherhood of Mutants. We fight for justice and freedom for all mutantkind against the tyranny of _Homo sapiens._ I'm here to extend an invitation to you to join us."

"And how many members does your 'elite group of mutants' have?" Angel asked. "Can you guarantee me that the people here," he gestured to _'die Mutante Haus,'_ "would be safe? What kind of benefits does joining your group have?"

"Uh…"Toad looked worried and confused. "The first answer's classified, I think. I'll give a probably to the second one? And when I asked that last question, I got told that the benefits were 'the satisfaction of fighting for the future of my race.'"

"You're not even getting paid or anything?" said Angel, raising an eyebrow.

"Dude, I was living under a bridge in Liverpool before I joined the Brotherhood!" Toad said, crossing his arms. "I get three meals a day, warm clothes, and a roof over my head. That's good enough for me!"

"Whoa. Sorry, man," Angel said, holding up his hands. "Look, I didn't mean to offend you, but I can't accept your offer. All of the people who live here depend on me, and I can't be running around causing trouble. So, thanks, but no thanks." Putting his helmet back on, the Avenging Angel spread his wings and leapt into the sky, leaving Toad on the ground yelling something that was lost to the wind.

…

The Angel winged his way across the city, mulling over Toad's words in his head. Yeah, he was doing good for the mutants in the Windy City, but what if he could help all of America? If only he didn't have to worry about his father finding out about his little secret…

The sounds of thundering footsteps roused Warren from his thoughts. Glancing down and around, he saw the familiar sight of a Sentinel Tracker menacing several teens. These seemed different, though, from the usual frightened new mutants. Three of them behaved as a unit, protecting the fourth, who was younger. Still, time to help.

"Let vengeance be done!" the Angel shouted his battle-cry, throwing his sword at the robot. Unfortunately, he missed vital parts, and the blade merely stuck in some armor plating on its shoulder. While it was distracted, Angel landed near the group. "You guys okay?"

"We're fine," said one of them, a tall, young man wearing a gray duster, a cowl covering his head, and an odd visor over his eyes. "We were looking for you, actually."

"You and everybody else," the Angel muttered, thinking back to his conversation with Toad. "Anyway, we've gotta finish this before we can talk."

"Most indubitably," said another boy with ape-like proportions, wearing what looked like a letter jacket in blue and yellow. "Marvel, if you would be so kind?"

"Sure, Beast," said the red-headed girl, whom Angel assumed must be Marvel. She stepped forward and spread her hands. Surrounded in a pink glow, the Tracker lifted a few feet in the air. Marvel clapped her hands together, and the Sentinel collapsed in on itself, folding into a ball of purple scrap metal.

"Now, we can talk," the trench-coated young man said. "We're the X-Men."

"Ex-men?" asked Warren, narrowing his eyes. He gestured to Marvel. "She looks like a real girl to me."

The blond boy who hadn't spoken yet doubled over laughing as Marvel's eyes bugged out of her skull and Trench-coat rushed to do damage control. "Geez, I said _X-Men!"_ he said hurriedly. "X! As in the mutant X-gene, not… Geez!"

Angel held up his hands. "Sorry, man," he said. "You got to admit, though, it sounds like—"

"We're done discussing this," Marvel interrupted, fixing Angel with a steely look. "Can we just introduce ourselves and be done with this?"

"Sure," said Trench-coat. He turned back to the Angel. "Okay, I'm Cyclops," he gestured to Letter-jacket, "that's Beast," blond boy, "Iceman, and you're already best friends with Marvel Girl, here."

"Don't push it," Marvel said, wagging a finger at Cyclops. "You're in enough trouble as it is."

"I'm the Avenging Angel," interrupted Warren. "What are you looking for me for? Are you with that Toad guy? I already told him, forget it." He turned and spread his wings to take off.

"Actually, we represent a school for mutants," said Beast.

Angel turned and looked at him. "A school for mutants? Isn't gathering a lot of mutants in one place a little…dangerous?"

"Is that not what you have done here?" Beast asked. "Your efforts are commendable, Angel, but it's only a matter of time until a Sentinel finds you. Our school, on the other hand, is set in the middle of its own large property, away from prying eyes and the probes of Sentinels."

"Plus, we have cookies," Iceman tossed in, "and ice cream."

"The _point,_ " said Cyclops, glancing at Iceman and probably tossing him a glare under the visor, "is that we can help the mutants you're caring for here, probably better than you can."

"Yeah, well, I don't know if that'll work," Angel scoffed, removing his helmet. "My dad doesn't know I'm a mutant. If he found out, he would toss me in a mardie cell, not happily send me off to a school."

"That's the best part," said Marvel, giving a smile. "The Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters is a known, and very exclusive, private school. Warren, the headmaster is having a meeting with your father about you going there right now."

Warren was instantly on the defensive. "How did you find out who I am?"

"We've got mutant-tracking tech," Iceman explained. "Us X-Men, we go around ripping helpless mutants from the jaws of death! It's our favorite hobby."

Marvel glanced at Iceman in amusement. "This is your _first_ mission, Bobby," she said. "Anyway," she turned back to Warren, "let's head to your place so that you're around when your dad makes his decision, okay?"

"I, um, I guess," Warren said. "I just need to stop someplace and get my spare wing restraints."

…

Toad was walking down the street when he heard the roar of engines. Looking up, he saw a familiar heavily modified SR-71 Blackbird tear through the sky on its way eastward.

"Aw, man," he groaned in disappointment. "Missed it again! Magneto's gonna kill me!"

…

This is the end, true believers. It's been a good ride. However, this is only the tale of how our Indomitable X-Men got together. Be back in two weeks to read about their first real battle in 'Indomitable X-Men: Band of Brothers'!


End file.
